If my first strap-on could talk…O, the stories it would tell you of its glorious life! So let me tell you what it would reminisce about and say. This story will be told from my strap-on’s perspective and its journey from being just a virgin to the sexual deviant that took so many virginities. A life of hedonistic pleasures leading the way with just the tip and with Miss Mae Ling’s support from the back encouraging it to go deeper and harder.
The Strap-On Beginning
I was created to be used, objectified or am I just an object myself? Shaped and molded, packaged and boxed sitting on a shelf for who knows how long. The days and nights continued onwards, sun coming up just to go down. Nights seemed so long in the dark, was there ever sunlight again? Sure, of course there would be, it’s a cycle after all – a predictable one at that. A cycle that was suddenly broken by a warm hand that plucked me off of the shelf, apparently paid for me and then stuffed into a bag. The man seemed soft, gentle, sweet but wait a minute, why would he want me? After all, I’m sure he has his own penis…right?! What’s the point in asking so many questions, not like he can hear me, I’ll just find out the hard way.
The Strap-On Owner
Swinging back and forth in the bag, it was fun, carefree. A new chapter in my life, movement I have never felt before. Something so joyful in the swinging that whatever was the come, I knew it was going to be wonderful. The swinging was now accompanied by a bit of bouncing. Well this is new, also fun but so many movements I couldn’t help but to laugh and just go with it. Suddenly, one swing to the other side and it stopped. But I was just getting used to it and all the jiggles! I wanted more, why did he stop? I look up and he seems very nervous. Looking down at the ground at his feet – doesn’t even see me, looking right through me. There’s a bit of shaking, but it wasn’t the happy kind like before. It’s the nervous kind with his fingers. I mean if he got me, why is he so nervous? He knocks on a door; the nervous jostling becomes more intense. I can see sweat glazing over his hands as he continually looks down. The door swings open – it’s as if the sun had come out again: she’s gorgeous! I can’t stop looking at her driven to her like a moth to a flame. They exchange a few words and I was handed over to her. Something was up and I knew my life was about to begin.
The Strap-On First Dance
She took me in, closed the door and walked away. Would I ever see him again? I kind of grown to like him, after all he jiggled me around and I wanted more of that. Movement never felt so good before after sitting on a shelf for the first part of your existence. She took me out of the bag with her perfectly manicured hands, now those are some delicately gorgeous hands. Much softer, much gentler than his. Hm, maybe she’ll be gentle with me, how could someone so precise and so quaint with their handling be anything but soft? She took me out of the box immediately, inspected the different parts of me up close, I felt naked even though I was still wrapped up but exposed to her. There was no hiding, there was only being who I am. She put a part of me on around her bottom, I could feel myself hugging her plump yet firm butt – her hand still holding the dong part of me. Why did she tear us apart?! We were separated in the package but never truly separated before. Never far away from each other and I never realized I’d miss a part of me, aching to be close and strapped on to never have to be apart again. My pain was quickly resolved as she reunited us together. There I sat completely placed together for the very first time. Whole, as though I took my first breath of fresh air. That was all I needed and all I wanted. She seemed to think the same as she kept me on for quite some time. She looked happy from what I could see; I lead her around the room dancing about. Our first dance was so cute, she was so enthused that we danced for an hour and I never wanted her to stop swinging me around.
The Strap-On Cycle
Like all things, it ended and now I was taken off and put on a table next to a bunch of other toys that looked all too familiar – reminding me of the place where I called home. Everyone reminded me of my friends, not like we really hung out, more like sat around and grew comfortable with each other’s presence, a never ending wait. But why do people end things when it’s so much fun? I could just go on forever and yet people seem to get tired, such an odd concept – tiredness. She cleaned up the space and her too apparently. So stunning she looked even more beautiful if that was even a possibility.
A knock echoed through the space, she glided over the door and opened it. It’s him, he still looked nervous but this time so much more excited! So happy to see a familiar face again I was ecstatic for him to join us on our dance. He crawled in and took off all of his clothes. Empathizing with him, having felt the same way not too long ago. But I knew he was in good hands as I just had a marvelous time with her. I trust she’s just like this at the beginning, right? She plucked up toys all around me one by one. How lucky that they got to dance first I thought! And with each one she struck them onto his body. My God, is this how she treats her toys?! How could someone so sweet and innocent looking as her be so ruthless?! She continued hitting him and he just sat there and took it all. Why wouldn’t he resist?
She seemed pleased with an evil smirk upon her face, saying it was time for a reward. I sure hope he gets a reward! He just sat there and took a beating like a champ. She walked over to the table and grabbed a firm hold of me, elegantly putting me on. All of that pain for a dance with me? Well, I feel kind of flattered. She walked me around him, boy is he marked up. That butt is looking quite warm and red, poor guy – wish I could make him feel better. Perhaps I spoke too soon, she put on a bunch of clear gel like substance on his butt and rubbed me around his butt hole. Ew, I take it back I don’t want to make him feel better. She rubbed my face around his butthole, okay haha – this is a weird dance. I’m done here. As if she heard me she stopped and pulled me back. Why is she sticking her fingers in there?! Does she think I’m going in there?! Nope! No way, not a chance – she wouldn’t do that to me, we danced together! Before I could say anything else, she pushed me into a dark hole. Only to come out for a bit of air to be pushed back in. Darkness and light all so quickly I thought I was going to faint of the sudden changes. She was relentless and there was nothing I could do to help this poor man whom I now know so intimately inside and out. She won.
The Strap-On Realization
From that moment onwards, I understood what I was meant to do. My purpose in life, my job at which I must perform because I never get tired at any time of day and perform for her every whim and desire. I wasn’t just a strap-on, I was an extension of her, the one they call Miss Mae Ling. I am just a tool to serve her. I am no different than the one’s who’s holes I enter; we are all the same. Brought together to please her. Is it a pleasurable life that I thought I’d have when I was first swept off the shelf? I know nothing else other than this and it’s best to appreciate the role I play in her life. She is my world now and I am only her strap-on.
What is your story with your first strap-on?
Comment below on about how it changed your life.
This post is part of the FemDom Society, insightful and thoughtful writings by an order of superior Dommes.
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